


I Think I've Made My Choice

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Boys Inc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Death, Gen, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Phil Tommy and Techno are technically only mentioned, Temporary Amnesia, no beta - we die like Ghostbur, sorry I suck at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Wilbur knew he could respawn. He knew but he didn’t want to.So he drifted.
Relationships: Uhhh no thank you
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106
Collections: Anonymous





	I Think I've Made My Choice

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this idea BEFORE Wilbur decided he was gonna be Ghostbur and while I'm a little bitter I decided to just finish and post it anyway lmao
> 
> Enjoy? Hopefully? P l e a s e?

Wilbur knew he could respawn. He knew but he didn’t want to. 

So he drifted.

He didn’t know exactly where he was, only that it looked like the night sky, little specs of light in a seemingly vast nothing. He liked to make constellations as he slowly floated by, making stories for his favourites; A man with long hair that easily cut down his enemies with one swing but protected those he loved, a young boy who wrecked havoc wherever he went but only meant well, and a man with wings who could destroy with his strength but chose to simply survive. It was peaceful, a feeling he hadn’t known for awhile. 

Sometimes though, in his little bubble of nothing, he swore he could hear people calling out to him. It was always muffled though, like his head was underwater, so he could never fully hear what they were saying, and it was usually only his name that he could understand. He felt like he recognised the voices, and the more they called, the more alive he felt. He tuned them out.

He continued to drift.

Memories didn’t come to him easy, they flitted in and out of his head giving him no time to process what he recalled.

A room with a button on the wall, no, a room with a button on the floor? He didn’t press it. He did. The room was so full. Only him and one other. Planning revolution in the camarvan. Schlatt dying. Sparring with his brothers. Betrayal. Betraying. He won the war. He lost the election. He failed. He succeeded. He died.

Phil.

Wilbur’s eyes flew open at the thought of Phil. Something akin to fear and guilt stirred in his nonexistent chest, though he wasn’t sure why, the memory of his death vague and fleeting like any of the others that crossed his mind but the feelings stayed. He wanted to remember. He wanted to forget. 

He let the cold of the empty vast consume him again.

He reached a hand out to one of the little lights, mesmerised by the soft glow as he brought it closer to his face. Would it be so bad to stay here? Adrift in the emptiness? He could feel himself slipping further away, memories and feelings lasting less and less time. But he didn’t need memories, he had his stories, his constellations.

A man with long hair that easily cut down his enemies with one swing but did so to his friends and family after being lied to for so long, a young boy who only meant well but was faced with chaos that he shouldn’t have had to see, and a man with wings who only wanted to survive but had to use his strength to destroy his oldest son.

He made new constellations instead.

Wilbur was vaguely aware that someone else was now drifting near him, he just couldn’t see them. Sometimes he could sense the other reach out to him but he felt that if he did the same that something in him would break. So the other continued to drift with him, never straying far as Wilbur continued on.

It was nice, Wilbur thought, to have someone with him despite the silence he was scared to break. The presence sometimes felt familiar, leaving him with a mix of emotions that ranged from being delighted to maddened anger, but as usual, feelings were fleeting, and so he remained content with the presence by him. They continued to drift lazily around each other.

Nothing good lasted though.

He was on his 1000th or so circle around the other when he felt the presence reaching out to him again. Wilbur tried to brush the other off as usual, still not willing to face whatever it was that would break in him, but the other was insistent. Each pull was getting stronger and more difficult for Wilbur to ignore, he tried to put distance between them but the presence just followed, refusing to let him escape.

A pull.

“Wil-“

He drifted.

Another pull, stronger.

“Wilbur, listen-“

He drifted further.

Another pull, unshakeable. 

“Wilbur, I’m going back.” 

He finally faced the other.

The man in front of him was once again strangely familiar, face framed with curled horns and muttonchops, and dressed in a soft blue sweater with white pants. But the usual mix of feelings didn’t appear, instead he felt hurt, betrayed. He didn’t want the other to leave.

“Going back?” He asked, feeling his voice rather than hearing it, raw from its disuse. 

The other gave him a lopsided smile “Can’t exactly hide out here forever,” he gave a shrug, “Gonna have to face the music eventually.” 

When Wilbur continued to stare at him, the man reached out with a hand, an invitation.

“You could come back with me, Wilbur.” 

Wilbur tilted his head in confusion, “Go back where?”

Now it was the horned man’s turn to look confused.

“Back to Manb- I mean L’Manburg, I guess, after you fucks won.”

“L’Manburg?” The word sounded familiar, a distant memory that both hurt and warmed him.

“Yeah buddy, L’Manburg, so are you-“ The other stopped and drifted closer to Wilbur, inspecting him, “Do you not remember?”

“I-“

“Wilbur, who am I?” 

He wanted to lie but what else could he say?

“I… don’t know.” He whispered.

And Wilbur knew that this is what he had been afraid of. The thing inside of him that would break. He would remember.

The other’s eyes widened and he grabbed onto Wilbur’s shoulders.

“I’m Schlatt, remember? Fuck… You- You need to respawn before you forget how to!” The other- Schlatt was practically shaking him as he spoke. “I know we’ve had our differences man but c’mon!”

Wilbur pushed Schlatt away from him, hands trembling as the dam in his mind started to splinter.

“I’m not going back.” 

“You-"

“No.” Wilbur bit out, his head was in agony from memories trying to resurface, voices still trying to call out to him, his stories-

Schlatt tried to reach out a hand again, went to pull Wilbur’s hands from where he was frantically clutching at his head, as if doing so would keep the dam from breaking. The second he touched him Wilbur screamed out.

“LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” 

The shorter man withdrew almost instantly, shocked at the outburst. Shock was quickly taken over by anger.

“Y’know what?! Fine!” Schlatt shouted, “You can stay here like a fucking coward if you want but I’m going back!” 

Wilbur looked up in time to see the other slowly fade away.

“Enjoy forgetting.” 

He was alone again.

He drifted.

The damage had been done though and memories slowly trickled through the cracks, only this time they didn’t leave. The longer he drifted, the more he remembered, and with each memory increased his regret that he didn’t go with Schlatt when he had the chance. The other man had been right. He’d drifted too long, he’d forgotten how to go back. 

And for the first time since he’d been in the vast emptiness did Wilbur cry. He remembered everything from his life and it no longer mattered because he couldn’t go back. He was now stuck knowing that he couldn’t apologise to everyone for what he’d done. He’d used and lied to Techno about what the others intended to do once Schlatt was gone, he’d forced Tommy into war time and time again without any regard for his safety if it meant Wilbur got what he wanted, and Phil… He made Phil kill him, knowing how much it would hurt his Father but too crazed to care at the time.

Schlatt was right again, Wilbur was a coward.

He screamed into the void, the darkness and little specs of light uncaring.

He drifted.

Wilbur wasn’t sure how long he’d been dead now, time meaning nothing in the emptiness. He wondered what would have happened if he’d respawned instead of staying in the strange limbo he was now, how his friends and family would have reacted to him destroying the nation they worked so hard to make. He doubted they’d have forgiven him but that was understandable. He wondered if they forgave Schlatt, after all, at least he went back. He wondered, if they did forgive Wilbur, what would happen then? Would things go back to normal? Would he be able to joke around with Tommy and all their friends again? Would Techno spar with him like they did when they were kids? Would Phil ever be able to be proud of him? 

Too lost in his musings, Wilbur didn’t realise the voices that used to call to him were now back.

They started as a whisper, barely enough to break the endless silence that usually engulfed him, then they grew in volume, still quiet and soft but able to pull him back to himself as he now listened to them. The voices were still hard to understand but they were there, and that was all that mattered to Wilbur, grateful to have them back.

As the voices continued to grow in volume he was fairly sure he could recognise them now. Niki, Fundy, Eret, Quackity, Schlatt, Tubbo, Techno, Tommy, Phil. They were calling to him… For him.

They grew louder again and he reached for them, desperate to not let them go again. It hurt, he realised, trying to follow their voices, his nonexistent body shuddering under the strain but he kept going, feeling more and more alive the longer he listened, the more he reached.

Soon it was like screaming, his ears ringing from the sound, and he wanted desperately to cover his ears but he couldn’t, not again. 

With one last push he reached for the others, his vision going blank.

He took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

The sky was blue.

He didn’t drift.

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW IT SUCKED NO ONE @ ME LMAO I JUST REALLY LIKED THE CONCEPT OF WILBUR NOT WANTING TO RESPAWN


End file.
